


Hey Jealous Lover Ch.10 of 16

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Jealous Brian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The future's in the air. I can feel it everywhere, blowing with the wind of change.” ©Scorpions<br/>Takes place after Ep.208 and before Ep.217</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Jealous Lover Ch.10 of 16

** Choose your battles wisely, my friend. In losing, there can be victory. In winning, there can be defeat. Know your enemy well or you may discover you are fighting the wrong one. **

   
Justin grabbed the door handle and froze. His heart raced in panic, as if the oxygen had been sucked out of him, taking his bravado with it. He shifted his weight to get his concrete feet to move. _This is insane._ With a determined shake of his head, he tugged at the metal and cringed at its groan of reluctance.  
  
Prickles of unease alerted him to a shift in the air. Acutely aware of a heightened testosterone level in the loft, he shivered at the sinuous hush. Cloaked in darkness, the only illumination was an accent light in the kitchen that cast eerie shadows on the walls. He warily scanned the area, searching for anything out of the ordinary, anything that could be a threat. He hated to admit that another effect of the bashing, in addition to the already lengthy list, was that certain situations unnerved him. He breathed a sigh of relief when all he found was a tousle-haired man sprawled on the sofa in half-opened jeans, hands clasped around a glass, feet on the coffee table.  
  
“So, did you fuck him yet?” Brian drawled.  
  
Justin couldn’t help but notice the signs of self-indulgence were more apparent than usual—the glassy eyes shone brighter in the darkness, the angled cheekbones flushed with a more sensuous shade of red. Out of instinct rather than choice, he ignored the crude question to keep a temporary lid on his bottled up anger until he was convinced that Brian was...until he was convinced there was nothing to worry about. “Brian, what did you take?”   
  
“My good ole friend, here, Mr. Beam!” An unsteady hand lifted a half-empty glass.  
  
“What else?” he asked suspiciously.  
  
“Oh, a little of this and a lot of that.” The harsh laugh echoed through the space like nails on a blackboard. He finished his drink in one gulp and the weight of his gaze spread a warmth through Justin more intense than any liquor.  
  
Even in his alcohol and drug-induced haze, hunger raced through Brian. The muscles in his jaw twitched in anticipation. Exhaling erratic puffs of air, he pulled himself up from the sofa. “Come over here,” he commanded in a voice that would not take no for an answer.  
  
“We are not doing this now!” Justin grated, but his feet betrayed him. Like a moth to a flame, they propelled him toward Brian until he stood in front of him, chin tilted in defiance.   
  
An insidious hand crept into his jeans, stroking his cock to hardness. His eyelids fluttered as it worked its magic, stripping his control. The more he surrendered to the sensation, the more he hated himself for his weakness.  
  
“That’s it. Just let it happen,” Brian whispered, the words a feathery tickle on his overheated flesh. “Give it to me. You know you want to.”  
  
As the hand slithered lower, he gritted his teeth, unable to stop a strangled moan when the palm pressed against his balls and fingertips teased his opening.  
  
“You’re so fucking hot like this, Justin. Makes me want to do all kinds of dirty things to you.” Brian’s hypnotic dragged him under its spell.  
  
But when a finger wormed its way inside, the intrusion jolted him into awareness. “Cut it out!” he gasped, shaking with arousal and anger, uncertain where to direct either or both.   
  
“You’re hard,” Brian taunted, emboldened not only by the drugs and alcohol, but also by the jumbled emotions Justin awakened in him earlier. He grabbed his arm, unable and unwilling to let him go.  
  
With a clenched jaw, Justin tried to shake free, but Brian tightened his grip. Only when a reproachful blue glare seared his skin, did he loosen it, allowing him to break away. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Brian? Is it always going to be like this? Is this always going to be your way of dealing with things? Fuck your way out?”   
  
“Never failed me before. Why mess with it?” Brian gave a derisive shrug. “Besides, I had some unexpected time on my hands tonight so I decided to put it to good use.” He raised his glass in salute.  
  
“Are you saying, in your usual fucked up, roundabout way, that it’s _my_ fault you’ve been drinking?” Justin asked incredulously.  
  
“Fuck no! It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault about anything _._ You know that.” He took a long swallow before playing another trump card. His gaze turned predatory as he coiled for the pounce in a silky voice. “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. I didn’t get a chance to tell him when he and I were at Babylon earlier, but the next time you see Adam,” he smirked, “let him know that his chocolate twinkie, Erik, was greeeaaat!”A perverse thrill shot through him when the  blue eyes widened in shock. You’re such an open book, Sunshine. So easy to play!  
  
“You, he— What the fuck! Am I supposed to punch a time clock now?”  
  
“Do you think a Stepford entity has commandeered my brain? Don’t flatter yourself!”   
  
“Then why were you there? Were you checking up on me?” Justin fumed.  
  
Brian had his you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me look firmly in place. “Let’s see. Because I always go there, because I wanted a drink and a fuck? As ego-damaging as it may be, I do have better things to do than keep tabs on your ‘comings’ and ‘goings.’”  
  
“You always have better things to do!” Justin bit out, unable to keep the lid on his bottled anger any longer. “You’re a fucking piece of work! Doesn’t matter if you’re piss-drunk or sober. You _always_ know what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. I feel you’re constantly testing me, trying to see how far you can push me. You think because you’re the great Brian Kinney, it’s okay to pull this kind of shit? Well, it’s _not,_ Brian!”  
  
Brian gave a mirthless chuckle. “You’re a fine one to talk! You’re not exactly blameless yourself! Does King of Babylon ring a bell or do I have to refresh your memory? I’m surprised you didn’t fuck him on the dance floor. I couldn’t figure out if it was adolescent inexperience, sheer stupidity, or if _you_ actually knew what you were doing.”  
  
“That was only because....” Justin shook his head. “Never mind. Forget it. Fuck! What are we doing, Brian?”  
  
“Damned if I know!”  
  
“It’s the same shit over and over again. We keep going in circles and nothing ever gets resolved.”   
  
“You just noticed that?” Was this the sooner-than-anticipated beginning of the later-but-expected end?   
  
No matter how hard he tried, Justin couldn’t let go of his increasing turmoil. “I think I need time to think, to process things. I feel as if I’m in some kind of net.”  
  
“I’ve been called a lot of things. but this is the first time I’ve been referred to as a net.” Insecurity running rampant, Brian had a burning need to find out if that little shit was behind this. “Is it him?”   
  
“No.” But in all honesty, Justin couldn’t be sure.   
  
Neither could Brian, even as he blustered, “One thing I _do_ know is that if you really wanted him, wanted to be with him, you would be. You wouldn’t be here _._ ”  
  
“Maybe.” Justin frowned in concentration. “Maybe I do, but I don’t know it.”  
  
Brian crafted a careful reply. “Possible, but it’s more probable that maybe you think you want him because of me.”  
  
“That was awfully shrink-like. Did your overabundance of narcissism foster it?”           
  
“Hey, I call it as I see it.”  
  
There was that superior attitude again, Justin thought, as if he’s doing me a big favor fucking me, letting me live with him. How could someone drink and drug and still twist things around to make me the one at fault, to make my head spin. “Brian, I don’t know what you want.”  
  
“Me? Nothing. It’s your life. You know where the door is. Take as long as you need—weeks, months, years. But while you’re _processing,_ think about what you want and what you need, from yourself and from m...others.”  
  
“I _wanted_ to talk to you about what happened,” Justin bit out. “I wanted to discuss it, but as usual, you didn’t give me a chance. You only heard what you wanted to hear, saw what you wanted to see, the way you always do.You have this nifty way of reprogramming everything and everyone in your fucked up head to fit your way of seeing things. And if it doesn’t work? Hell, no problem! You either fuck them, leave them, or push them out the door!” The blood hammering in his temples throbbed in his pores. “You were willing to let me go, Brian! You’re _always_ willing to let me go. Why....” His voice hitched as emotion punctured his angry balloon. “Why aren’t you ever willing to make me stay? Just fucking once, can't you pretend that you give a damn, that you fucking _care,_ even a little?”   
  
_“Maybe if I pray every night, and maybe if I cry every day_  
_And maybe if I hold your hand, you’d understand, you’d stay.” ©Barrett/Smith_  
  
The question sliced deep, reopening wounds with a tsunami of emotion so intense Brian couldn't breathe. Using every bit of strength to jump-start the survival mode he invented in childhood and honed to perfection in adulthood, he tried to fight the excruciating pain. He lost the battle. His face imploded like a demolished building and from a bottomless cavern, he exploded. The fury was unleashed—without his knowledge, without his acceptance, without his permission. “To protect you, to save your damned life, I’d give my fucking soul away!”

 

continue here:  <http://archiveofourown.org/works/1397641>


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